


Vegas (S)Trip

by SaltyWords (agent4hire22)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon, Castiel Gives Oral Sex, Crack, First Time for Everything Fest, Fluff and Smut, For Fun!, Hand Jobs, Humor, M/M, Mild Angst, Mind Reading, NOT noncon, Yeah--That's Right Mind Reading, antics, drunk!Cas, drunk!Dean, drunk!sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 09:20:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7709560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent4hire22/pseuds/SaltyWords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas was glowing in the low light, bright cheeks and flushed lips. His eyes were heavy and his hair was a damn mess. Fucking kissable is what, and hanging on Dean’s body heat like it had him snagged. Dean pushed his half empty chaser Cas’ way and gave him his best crooked smile.<br/>“What’s ‘a matter, Angel? Can’t out drink me?”</p><p> </p><p>Because I totally didn’t just go to Vegas on a work trip and figure out a way to turn it into dean/cas smut. Also, hey, this is my batshit-crazy headcanon for how the old coat somehow makes a mysterious comeback!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vegas (S)Trip

**Author's Note:**

> Psst, hey wait a minute. Can we talk really quick? You know how sometimes authors get all meta and totally write themselves into their own story? Yeah, I'd never do that... Except this time. Right here. I /might/ be the annoying drunk blonde in this that appears for a brief moment. Just-- it's inconsequential, but I still feel like everyone should know. That's me, Okay? Okay, carry on--

Vegas (S)Trip 

\----

I mean, that was the point, right? nightlife, drinking… Strangers and sex: All the Vegas essentials. Which was exactly why Dean had sized her up in the first place: The _nine_ at the end of the bar. A leggy brunette who hit the _T-Trifecta_ without even trying (tall, toned, and tan). And yet, here he was buying Cas another round, because-- _goddammit--_ his eyes were electricin the incessant neon light, and that lithe smile at the edge of his glass was razor sharp. 

“I like the heat. It’s a dry heat. Very cleansing.” 

“Yeah, well, sweating through a shirt five minutes after you park the car ain’t my idea of cleansing,” Dean said _._

“Good thing this is all air conditioned then.”

“Just tryna keep you at the slots, Cas.” 

She’d been interested for a little while: _The Nine_. Throwing doe eyes Dean’s way and kicking a hip to display her _assets_. But, she’d given up somewhere between then and now. Maybe that had something to do with Dean’s lean; Elbows tabletop and waist stretching, he kept trying to snag another rich hit of that deep sea breeze salt Cas had bogged around him somehow. He didn't even realize he was doing it til he was halfway across the table, Cas’ eyes rolling low as he let Dean in without backing up. 

Truth was, the sacred annual pilgrimage was tipping sideways and he was just trying to stay above water. Sam had abandoned to get some backlogged cataloging done in the storeroom, and default short straw had fallen to Cas. _No big deal._

“ _Two beds, man. Already booked. You ever been?”_

“ _To the city of sin? No, I seem to do fine on my own without a whole city to help.”_

“ _Yeah, we all do. Just--pack your backup trench coat or whatever, and get in the car. You’re comin’.”_

“ _You want to take me on vacation?”_

“ _Everybody needs a vacation.”_

Maybe there was still time to snag the brunette back. He could roll up to the stool next to her with a fruity drink and a read-between-the-lines smile. See where the night led, leave all the rest of this impending mess behind before it turned into a category four life-choice hurricane.

Except… 

Cas’ eyes weren’t wandering. They were fixed and focused. Deep enough to drown in. 

Cas ran fingers down the cool pint of chocolate brown lager with a choppy nonchalance that read more calculated than carefree, but it churned to endearing like cream to butter as it worked into a smile. Vacation or not, bad choices were following Dean, because not even he could deny how _cleansing_ it was watching Cas’ throat work that beer. 

_Dammit,_ Vegas always managed to pull this outta him, and he was having a helluva time buttoning it back up.

“Are the, uh, slots the goal?” Cas asked, slurring a bit. The beer was hitting home, and there was no end to how pleased that made Dean.

“For what?”

“Vegas. The, uh, _pilgrimage_ , as you call it. What’s our purpose? Making some money?”

“Purpose? Ha!” Dean shook his head. “No, you’re missin’ the point. This is just pleasure, my friend. Wild fantasies and overindulgence. It’s vacation with no regrets. I mean, I’ll probably work a Blackjack table over before we leave, but just to pay for the room. There's no hustle or job. Just enjoy yourself.”

Cas popped a brow and bothered his rolled sleeves. His coat was long forgotten at the edge of the booth, pushed up and crumpled beside him. He’d been in shirtsleeves since they’d checked in, just carrying the thing around. And now Dean couldn’t ignore the admirable curve of his chest, unearthed from all those suffocating layers. The sight of it tickled all his shameful thoughts: That tie coming loose in his fingers. Those fucking lips, wet and hot, pressed into his neck, sucking a shiver straight from Dean’s toes. Feeling Cas up against him the same way those bubbles in his beer played along the inside of the glass.

“Hedonic thrill,” Cas reiterated, licking the taste from his lips, eyes on Dean and burning a hole.

Dean drained his drink and shifted uncomfortable. “Don’t get all technical on me. It’s just-- “ He slipped a hand under the table to adjust, and let his fingers linger a little longer over his filling dick than he ought to. But then again, touching himself _while_ he looked at Cas wasn’t usually on offer, so he’d take what he could and run with it. “Doin’ what you wanna do. No consequences.”

_Like you an’ me two-manning it into that giant fucking soaking tub upstairs in our room? That wouldn’t have any consequences, would it?_

Cas smiled, caught the bartender’s eye and tapped Dean’s glass. Four pints down, and apparently he was buying next. “I understand,” he said, swallowing Dean in that blue again.

\---

So the brunette was out. That bar was in Dean’s rear view, _what? two--three hours ago?_ _Shit…_ he squinted at his watch and swayed into Cas. “It’s like…” His tongue felt spongy. “It’s like perpetually eleven at night here.”

Cas caught his arm and stabilized him again. “No windows,” he said dodging a couple shirtless men as they headed back from the beach-themed pool. Maybe it was Dean’s imagination, but Cas seemed to linger on them a bit longer than he had anyone thus far. 

“What?”

“Yeah. No windows. Mentally stops time. Just like in malls.”

Dean looked around. _Oh, shit. He’s right…_ “Why would they do that?”

Cas smiled. “Keeps you at the slots, remember? Or shopping.”

“They make their money at the slots,” Dean slurred, because he wasn’t sure if Cas knew that or not.

“They make _your money_ at the slots,” Cas said pointing back. “I don't--I don't gamble.”

“Ha! No, I’m a huss--” Dean smacked his lips, “hustler. They only make as much as I let ‘em make.”

They dodged another group. Staggered past a little shoe shop with Jelly sandals on a tier display. _New Arrivals under $100!_ Dean realized he had a hand on the small of Cas’ back and took it away. _Maybe too much touching?_

“Where are we going? Are you getting shoes?”

“Wha-- no. We’re not going there.”

“What if we did?”

“I don’t need those shoes.”

“Nobody _needs_ those shoes,” Cas insisted stopping to poke at a clear pair with imbedded sparkles. “But think of how much fun they’d be.”

Dean laughed. _Aww, fuck it , he doesn’t care._ He hooked Cas’ arm and dragged him back into the walkway. “Forget the shoes,” he said pointing. “That’s where we’re going.”

“The daiquiri bar?”

“Yep.”

“Do you drink daiquiris? I don’t drink daiquiris.”

“You wanna wear sparkly girl shoes, you can drink a daiquiri.”

“No, I want you to wear sparkly shoes.”

“Yeah, that ain’t happening.”

\---

“No, I’m done. I gotta-- I should stop.” Cas gave the _no-go_ to the bartender and intercepted Dean’s follow up order of _Seven Deadly Sins_.

“What? No! You can’t stop-- There’s no stopping! We’re just getting started!” Dean gripped the edge of the bar--   _Shit, those shots went a long ways._ Some drunk blonde down the bar waved pom poms and cheered at a couple beside her.

“No, I shouldn’t, Dean. You can, of course-- keep drinking. Don’t let me stop you.” 

Cas was glowing in the low light, bright cheeks and flushed lips. His eyes were heavy and his hair was a damn mess. _Fucking kissable is what,_ and hanging on Dean’s body heat like it had him snagged. Dean pushed his half empty chaser Cas’ way and gave him his best crooked smile.

“What’s ‘a matter, Angel? Can’t out drink me?”

“I’ve doubled down on everything you’ve had. I think that’s exactly what I’ve done.”

“Eh, that’s just to keep it fair.”

Cas shook his head, that little smile he’d been wearing all day bit at his cheeks. “I’m  too drunk,” he said, swaying.

“But that’s the point.”

“When I get too drunk, I lose focus.”

“Well, shit, Cas. You’ll have to relax then.”

“But,” Cas pursed his lips. “When I lose focus, I start to catch some of your thoughts.” He was watching Dean carefully now, eyes curious, swagger in his posture-- alcohol or nerves-- muzzled. 

Dean cleared his throat, paused a moment as he threw back the last shot in their long line of empties, then swiveled to face him. “Oh,” he said, drawing it out along a coltish smile. _You’re not supposed to do that._

He watched it tick through Cas’ head a long while before he took the bait.

“That’s why I’m saying something.”

_How long you been wiretapping me?_

“A little while… ” Cas tested a timid hand at the front of Dean’s shirt, and Dean’s smile spread. That little fidget said so much more.

He plucked the end of Cas’ tie. Tugged it gently. _Then how long I gotta wait before you put me outta my misery?_

Cas melted forward and kissed him. Mouth hot and hands needy, Dean pulled him in. Got fingers in his hair and tasted the sugary daiquiri and buttery rum he still had seasoning his lips. Cas worked the kiss with taste of tongue, and it kicked a hole in the bottom of Dean’s stomach. He moaned, turned to goosebumps, and lost all the _steady_ in his heartbeat.

_Jesus, yes--_

Cas finished it like a pro. Soft and easy, still hanging close enough to whisper lashes over Dean’s cheek. His fingers walked down the curve of Dean’s neck and tracked the chills as they bred more in their wake. Dean knew he’d just lost it. This wasn’t _just vacation_. This was the real deal. That deep blue swallowed him up again, and so much for staying afloat, cuz now all he wanted to do was drink the damn saltwater.

“Yay!” The drunk blonde cheered, suddenly beside them, reeking of cheap wine and motel soap. She pulled a handful of chunky pink confetti from her handbag and dumped it on their heads. “Again!”

\---

“Jesus, Cas. Tell me what you really want.” Some Bacardi spilled from the open bottle as the hotel door slammed and Cas pinned him to the back of it, hands up Dean’s shirt and lips searching. Dean nearly dropped the bottle as Cas hit a sweet spot along his carotid and played it like a harp. 

“I’m sorry. I can stop. I’ll stop,” he panted. His hands came off. Face flushed and lips red from working. His eyes were dark in the ribbony yellow light.

“No no, don’t stop.” Dean chased him, curled a leg around him and trapped them together against the door. He pulled him closer, and worked the tail of Cas’ shirt from his suit pants. Abandoned the effort a moment later to gracelessly shove Cas’ hand up his shirt again. “That’s not what I meant. Here, drink.”

He tipped the bottle and Cas took a messy swallow. Some rolled off his chin and dribbled into the carpet. Dean watched it with eager thoughts and Cas dragged it back to him. Brought the bitter burn of alcohol into Dean’s mouth, licking it onto his tongue and smearing it over his chin. Dean pitched his hips, dick throbbing and begging for contact. He butted up alongside Cas’ to a resounding moan, then lost his belt a moment after to Cas’ hungry fingers. 

“To the bed,” Dean huffed.

“No--”

Cas’ knees hit the carpet and he sunk a wet kiss into the swell of Dean’s stomach. Fingernails bit into the flesh at his hipbones as Cas hooked a finger on the elastic waistband and pulled Dean’s dick free. Dean caught a sharp breath, wrapped fingers in his hair, and ignored another of those stupid pink confetti stars.

“We doin’ this in the doorway?”

The tip of his cock disappeared into Cas’ mouth, hot and happy. Dean bungled back and cracked his head on the door as Cas sucked down his shaft. He bottomed out in the back of his throat, with a little flutter that smacked Dean’s gut like a fucking lit sparkler. He was an experienced guy but--

_That’s new--_

Dean’s knees gave out. He slipped out of Cas’ mouth as he collapsed to the floor into a decent pile. 

Cas, still propped up, stole the moment and brought it back to Dean’s mouth, begged Dean’s own taste into him as rough whiskers worked in sharp contrast to the softness of his touch. Dean’s dick cried against Cas’ wrist as Cas undid his own pants, pulled himself free and stopped the damn world a second when he wrapped them both in his hand. 

Dean’s eyes rolled, head back against the door again, as Cas slowed it down. Smooth and fluid, working back Dean’s desperate hums, because, spit and pre come slick, Dean was going places quick and Cas seemed to know it.

“I’m doing you all over this room,” he whispered, “so you better calm down.” 

He let Dean loose and plucked the bottle from his hand. Took another drink. 

Dean stole a taste this time, for himself. Bolted forward and robbed it from Cas’ lips. “You been holdin’ out on me,” he said beside that mysterious seaside smell.

“No, I’ve been holding out _for you_ , Dean.”

\---

Heat sawed through the hotel window. The curtains were still daytime parted, the bed on the right of the room still neatly made. Just the bags sitting on it. Both of Dean’s feet were off the side of the bed. One of them up on the nightstand, a glass cup knocked on the floor, the other dangling. He groaned, hangover screaming like someone was working a screw into his temple. Beside him, Cas echoed the sentiment. 

Their heads were together in the middle of the bed, bodies sprawled different directions, and Dean didn’t have to look down to know he was still naked, did have to look-- _and yeah--_ Cas was too. 

“Any Bacardi left?” he asked, morning gravel shaking his voice from the grave.

Cas took a moment, smacked his mouth and rubbed hands over his face. “I don’t even know where the bottle is,” he said behind closed palms. “Please turn down the sun.”

Dean peeled off the comforter, swung for the pull string and missed. _Fuck it._ He fell back down, bed bouncing. “I tried.”

“A diligent effort.”

They both smelled like Bacardi and sex, there was really no hiding it. Dean was sore in more than a few places. But not like after a hunt, or after fighting for his life. The good kind of sore that you thought about for months after. _Sore from_ _living._

His stomach suddenly balled up. It was too early for this shit, but he knew if he didn’t ask now, maybe he never would. Maybe everything would go back to normal and Cas would just think that’s what Vegas vacations degraded into.

Dean squirmed. “Regrets?”

Beside him Cas hummed, hands sliding back down so he could look at Dean. He was just as beautiful now as the night before. A little dirtier maybe-- _a lot dirtier after all that,_ but everything that always hit Dean crooked was still there, only naked now--metaphorically, of course. 

“Yes,” he said, “maybe the daiquiris.”

Dean smiled, closed his eyes, listened as the AC finally kicked on and fought against the stuffy sunlight. He wasn’t really sure what the hell any of it meant, but he knew he was happy. “Come on,” he said slapping Cas’ thigh. “We’ll go get some greasy food. That’ll fix you right up.”

“No, that sounds horrible.”

“It ain’t. Trust me.”

“Alright, alright… ” Cas sat up, paused and looked around. “Do you have any idea where I left my coat?”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm winchester-reload on tumblr!


End file.
